


A different approach.

by Mystrothedefender



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: :3c, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:33:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25618153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystrothedefender/pseuds/Mystrothedefender
Summary: Bruce has had a hard weekend, he just wants to relax, but he finds he has an unexpected visitor.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 145





	A different approach.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dracze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracze/gifts).



> Get ready to read the best thing you ever read >:3c

It had been a long weekend for Bruce, away at a conference he hadn’t wanted to attend but couldn’t get out of. Learning about things he either didn’t care about, already owned, or had helped to invent. All he wanted now was to get out of his suit, have a nice warm bath and then curl up in bed.

He’d had a small crisis over it; he’d been gone for three full nights, three full nights he’d left Gotham without Batman. He felt guilty over missing a fourth.

Alfred had advised him, ‘ _ The city can wait, you have to think of yourself _ .’

Bruce had decided to listen. The idea of a long hot bath was so alluring after having to stay in that horrible hotel, talk to all those horrible people. Bruce really felt he needed it.

He felt calm fill him as he approached the manor.

He was home.

As he entered he felt himself tense, slightly, a soft weight forming in his gut.

He looked around, frowning, unable to see anything amiss. But he could feel it.

Something felt… wrong.

“Alfred?” he called through the halls, a light frown forming on his face as he searched.

Where was he?

“Alfred!” he called again, starting to become irrationally frantic.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, getting Alfred's number up and calling him.

“Alfred,” he said down the phone as soon as he heard it click through. “Where are you?”

He tried to sound nonchalant, as if he wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack for absolutely no reason.

“ _ Master Bruce _ ,” Alfred answered, his voice calm and soft. “ _ Never you mind where I am, you just enjoy yourself.” _

He hung up without another word, leaving Bruce confused.

A voice finally answered his yells, coming from the kitchen, “I’ve given the help the night off, darling.”

Bruce frowned. He knew that voice, he could pick it out of any crowd.

“Joker?” he said questioningly, nowhere near loud enough for him to hear.

He made his way through to the kitchen, the scent of garlic, onion, and ginger growing stronger as he walked. His gut clenched as he peered into the room. If there was one thing he didn’t want to deal with right now, it was the Joker’s antics.

He could feel his relaxing evening slipping through his fingers.

Before him stood Joker, a dark red apron on with a matching chef hat, a nylon spatula in his hand, leaning over the stove. Bruce wasn’t sure what he was cooking, but it smelled delicious.

The room was dimly lit. The main lights weren’t on, but there were candles everywhere of various sizes. Bruce would say they’d been lit for roughly two hours.

“Finally home, Batsy,” Joker cooed.

“What are you doing here?” Bruce asked weakly, stepping into the room.

Joker straightened himself up, turning to look at Bruce, a wide welcoming smile on his face. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’m cooking dinner.”

Bruce felt himself stutter and stammer, barely able to process what he was seeing. “Why… are you cooking?” he asked dumbly. “Where’s Alfred?”

Joker walked towards him, an almost kind smile still on his face. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” he purred, reaching out a finger to boop Bruce’s nose playfully.

“If you’ve hurt him,” Bruce warned.

Joker’s expression quickly changed to a hard pout. “Now why exactly would I do that? Bats, that would ruin our romantic night!”

“Romantic night..?”

“Yes,” Joker chirped, “I know how you hate those conferences, so I thought I’d play wife for tonight and...” He moved a hand to Bruce’s hip, swaying on his feet slightly. “Well, you know…”

“Why?” Bruce questioned.

“Why? Because you deserve it, of course. I don’t want my greatest enemy getting burned out.” He returned to the stove, stirring whatever it was he was cooking. “Alfred said he was worried about you.”

“Since when do you talk to Alfred?”

Joker scoffed, waving the spatula at him dismissively. “Since always! You’re such a… dunderhead, I swear. Can’t see what’s right under your nose and yet you call yourself the world's greatest detective. I’ll have you know I’ve met the world's greatest detective, and he is not a human.”

Bruce frowned softly as Joker rambled on. He let his eyes flick across the room, only now noticing that the dining table had been dressed: a clean white table cloth, red and pink rose petals scattered over it, and some of the fancy china tableware which Alfred almost never used.

It seemed Joker had really put effort in. Or Alfred had. Or both.

Had they worked together?

Bruce walked to the table. Placed delicately on one of the plates was a single perfect rose. He felt his heart swell as he looked at it.

“So, what are we having?” he asked as he sat at the table, turning his head to Joker, watching him as he continued fussing over the stove.

He couldn’t help himself thinking how good Joker looked in an apron.

“Roast lamb,” Joker said proudly, “Alfred’s recipe. I know it’s one of your favourites.” He turned his head to look at Bruce, a smirk coming to his face as he noticed his eyes on him. “You know a picture would last longer,” he growled playfully.

“Sorry,” Bruce mumbled through his teeth, forcefully turning his eyes away.

Joker let out a chuckle. “Don’t you dare apologise, darling. You’re allowed to look. I spent ages prettying myself up. I don’t want my work going unappreciated… Paid a fortune for this suit.”

Bruce felt a soft blush come to his face, and he leaned back in the chair.

He couldn’t believe Joker had done this for him. There had to be a motive of some kind.

Joker opened the oven, inhaling loudly through his nose and letting out a satisfied hum. “Perfect,” he purred, grinning wide.

He walked over, placing the roasting tin on the trivet in the middle of the table.

A large lamb shank sat on the roasting rack, an array of roast vegetables beneath it, simmering in the lamb's juices.

It looked delicious.

Bruce had barely eaten all day. He’d had a pack of yogurt-coated pretzels on the plane ride home, but other than that, he hadn’t had time to eat.

Joker darted back over to pour what he’d been making into a serving bowl, piling a few items of food onto a tray and bringing it over along with a bottle of red wine.

“Joker, this looks so nice,” Bruce said, unable to stop himself drooling at the sight.

Joker poured out two glasses of wine, taking off his apron and hat. “As do you,” he smirked. He picked up a carving knife, glancing at Bruce and smirking before he began to slice the lamb, forking it separately onto their places before scooping out some roast veg for them, pouring gravy over the top.

“Bon appétit,” he said, sitting down and beginning to eat.

Bruce took a mouthful of food, moaning softly and nodding. It was almost perfect, only Alfred could do better.

“So, why are you really here?” Bruce asked. “Last time you broke into my house, it was because someone was trying to kill you.”

Joker shook his head. “My dear dark knight,” he cooed, “not everything I do has a motive. I just felt like doing something nice for the man I love.”

Bruce felt his food stick in his throat as he said the word.

Love.

Love?

Bruce forced a short cough, lifting a hand to tap his chest. “What?”

“I won’t repeat myself.”

“Joker…”

Joker shook his head quickly, shushing him. “Now, now, don’t you talk with your mouth full,” he scolded.

He picked up his glass and took a sip of his drink. “You can’t say it’s a shock for you. Why else do you think I do the things I do?”

Bruce shrugged weakly. “You have an untreated mental illness?” he offered. Honestly he wasn’t sure, he knew many people with mental illnesses who would never do the things Joker did. He also knew a lot of people who were in love who wouldn’t do the things Joker did.

“If being in love is a mental illness, then yes, I suppose,” Joker chuckled. He smiled softly. “Every fight we have is a declaration of love from me. I thought you understood that. Alfred suggested I go a more direct route. Be more upfront.”

“I…” Bruce stuttered. He looked down at his food, his appetite suddenly gone. “You love me?” he said slowly, as if the words were in a foreign language.

Joker let out a weak chuckle. “You can’t say you didn’t know, Bruce,” he said back, deliberately. “You don’t have to say it back,” he added.

Bruce stared down at his food, watching how the light of the candles flickered and shone off the gravy as he absorbed what Joker had said.

He did know. He had for years. He’d never wanted to admit that that’s what this was. Those stolen moments and passionate nights… They’d gotten caught up in the moment; it could happen to anyone.

He hadn’t let himself think much more of it.

Joker let out a soft laugh. “Didn’t I say not to worry? Silly little boy,” he purred, reaching over and tousling Bruce’s hair. “Eat up. We’ll enjoy our night and you can have your existential crisis later, K?”

Bruce nodded, picking up his fork and poking at his food. After a moment, he looked back up at Joker. “The whole time?” he asked.

Joker smirked. “From the second I saw you.” He picked his fork back up, popping a slice of roasted red pepper into his mouth. “Now eat up. This isn’t the only thing I’ve planned out for you.”

Bruce glanced back at the food. Joker had put so much effort into this already.

“It’s not?” he asked, frowning weakly.

Joker shook his head. “I thought you could have a nice bath after dinner. I got one of those bath bombs and a little pack of that salt stuff you always use, and a face mask.”

Bruce felt his chest swell again. He couldn’t remember the last time someone other than Alfred had thought to do that for him. Most people assumed he hated things like that.

Maybe he’d still get his relaxing bath.

“And I’ve got a movie for us to watch after that.” Joker smiled. “It’s a rom-com.”

Bruce felt himself smile. It seemed Joker had planned out his perfect evening.

“This is too much,” he said with a shake of his head.

“But it’s what you deserve,” Joker cooed. “A nice relaxing night, being pampered.”

“How did you… Alfred told you all this, didn’t he?”

Joker shook his head. “I’m a very smart man, Bats. You don’t spend as much time together as we have without learning a thing or two about the other person.” He smirked. “Let's see… What is my favourite candy?”

Bruce thought for a second. “You like sour gummy bears,” he answered. Joker always had some in his pocket, and it was one of the things he had with him every time he was checked into Arkham.

“Ding ding ding,” Joker chimed, miming a bell ringing. “Correct! How about, uh… My favourite TV program?”

Bruce chewed his lip, thinking back, “You like… Golden Girls.”

Joker clapped his hands together. “Very good, Batsy! And what do I do to unwind at the end of the day?”

“You eat a banana split and watch old buddy-cop movies.” Bruce didn’t even have to think that time.

Joker laughed, “See! We know each other like the backs of our hands. I had no trouble planning out tonight, other than the, uh...” He gestured to the food. “I’m not a good cook,” he stated, another giggle leaving him as if he were embarrassed by the fact.

Bruce knew that too. The multiple times he’d searched Joker’s hideouts, the fridge was always filled with microwave meals and oven pizzas.

“Thankyou,” he said softly, “for doing all this.”

Joker shrugged, “Whenever you come out after your conferences, you’re always so tense… I hate to see you like that. You’re not nearly as fun."

Bruce frowned, he hadn’t realised that his poor mood was always so evident.

“I thought I’d rather help you relax,” Joker purred. He stabbed his fork deliberately into the last hunk of lamb on his plate, his eyes on Bruce as he ate it.

Bruce swallowed hard, feeling himself blush. He cleared his throat and turned his eyes back to his food, gulping down his wine before finishing the meal.

“I’m going to go and run your bath,” Joker cooed, a slight teasing tone to his voice.

“No dessert?” Bruce asked, letting a smirk come to his face.

Joker scoffed, “No, of course not, darling. I know how much you hate all that sugary shit. I’ve got dark chocolate for you to snack on in the bath, and popcorn for you to eat during the movie.”

Bruce let out a weak hum, smiling weakly. Alfred always made him dessert and then berated him for not eating it.

“You finish up, I’ll be back down in a minute,” Joker said, trailing his hand over Bruce’s as he passed him.

The touch made Bruce’s hair stand on end, sending a soft shudder through him, the intentness of the feeling surprising him. He’d only had one glass of wine?

He continued eating his food, thinking as he did.

Joker loved him? All this time, he’d loved him?

He felt so dense for not realising, but at the same time couldn’t see how he’d missed it.

They were attracted to each other, of course, how could they not be. There was certainly lust there. And care. But Bruce had always thought it was… well… not love. Not actual,  _ real _ , love.

He finished his plate and paused for a moment, looking at the scene in front of him. There was so much love in the meal he’d been served.

He wiped his mouth and got to his feet, a soft breath leaving him. He picked up his and Joker’s plate, taking them to the sink and washing them up, blowing out the candles Joker had lit on his way there, leaving himself almost in the dark.

He heard Joker walking down the hall, back towards him.

“Bruce,” Joker sang from behind him, “Your bath is- Oh,” he groaned, disappointed, Bruce could almost hear him rolling his eyes as he walked to him.

“I was going to do that while you were in the bath!” he chastised. “Washing dishes is not a relaxing activity!”

Bruce shrugged, still focussing on the dishes, washing up the last knife. “I think it is,” he said, “I kind of like cleaning. When I choose to do it.”

“Uh huh,” Joker growled, “Sure.” He leaned over, wrapping his hand around Bruce’s hip as he guided him away from the sink, “Come on. Time to do something that’s actually relaxing, darling.”

Joker lead him to the bathroom, glancing back at him every few seconds as if he were worried Bruce would get lost or wonder off, as if he wasn’t leading Bruce through his own house.

“Tah-dah!” he cheered as they reached the bathroom, he pushed open the door to reveal the room, again lit only by candlelight, petals peppering the floor, a plate of broken chocolate on the edge of the bathtub.

The bath was filled with bubbly water, an unnatural blue that caught the light of the candles and sent strings of colour across the ceiling.

“This is lovely,” Bruce said softly as he surveilled the room.

Joker leant against the doorframe, “I know right,” he bragged, an eyebrow raised.

Bruce paused, waiting for Joker to leave.

He didn’t.

“I’m not undressing in front of you,” he stated.

Joker pouted, then shrugged, “If you insist. I was kind of hoping we might be able to bathe together… But I understand,” he grinned.

Bruce shook his head, crossing his arms and watching as Joker closed the door. He let out a soft huff as it clicked, keeping his eyes on it for a few seconds before he began to undress. Folding his shirt and pants and stacking them by the door, laying his socks and boxers on top of the pile.

He climbed into the large tub, it was the perfect temperature, the warmth seeped into his muscles, the smell of the lavender bath bomb filling his nostrils.

It felt so different doing all this by candlelight instead of the main light.

It was obviously meant to be… romantic.

He let out a weak sigh, his stomach twisting as he thought to himself.

“Ok,” he relented to himself after a moment, “Joker, you can come in.”

The door swung open as he talked, and Joker’s slim frame slunk in, followed by his soft laughter. The noise echoed off the tiles as he closed the door behind him, and Bruce watched his shadowy silhouette cross the room.

Bruce held out his hand for Joker to hold as he climbed in opposite him.

“You knew I’d…” Bruce began, his voice soft as he watched Joker settle into the warm water.

“Of course,” Joker said, proud. “I know everything you’re going to do a minute before you do it.”

Bruce smirked, flicking his hand quickly to splash a fistful of water at him. “Even that?” he asked.

Joker chuckled, “Yes, even that.” He splashed him back.

“Hey,” Bruce smiled, splashing him again.

“You did it to me first,” Joker protested, laughing.

His laughter petered out, and there was a moment of comfortable silence between them as they let the warm water soothe them.

“This is lovely,” Bruce said quietly.

He jolted slightly as he felt Joker’s leg brush up against him.

“It is, isn’t it,” Joker echoed, a soft groan to his voice. “A nice change of pace.”

Bruce hummed quietly, reaching over to take a square of chocolate, letting it melt in his mouth.

“Don’t worry though, Bats, I’ll be back to my old tricks soon. Can’t have you getting bored of me.”

Bruce nodded, “Sure. Got to keep the relationship interesting.”

Joker let out an inquisitive hum, taking a piece of chocolate for himself, “Oh? We have ‘a relationship’ now?”

Bruce huffed, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, but it is,” Joker cooed.

“It would be nice to do this again, though,” Bruce added.

Joker nodded, “Oh, yes. But I expect pampering too, at some point.”

“Maybe,” Bruce jibed, “Next time you break a bone.”

Joker scoffed, “I would have been able to make that jump if I hadn’t been carrying that statue.”

“You wouldn’t have been on that roof at all if you hadn’t been trying to steal that statue.”

“But it was such a funny statue! It would have been a crime for me try to not take it!” Joker squeaked, trying to defend himself.

Bruce shook his head, letting out a weak laugh. “If you wanted it that much I could have bought you a replica.”

Joker shook his head, “That’s not as good as the real thing and you know it.”

Bruce let out a soft sigh, stilling slightly, “You don’t have to commit crime at every opportunity you get…”

Joker let out a weak hum, and there was another silence between them, this one a little more awkward.

“Are your muscles sore?” Joker asked, his playful tone opposing the atmosphere.

Bruce arched his back, feeling it click. “A little,” he confessed, “but the bath’s really helping.”

“Would you like a massage?” Joker asked, his voice soft and wanting.

Bruce huffed and shook his head, smiling, “I’m fine. Really.”

Joker pouted, “You sure? Sitting in those uncomfortable gross plastic chairs for two whole days and then being stuck in a plane for hours?”

Bruce felt himself blush, biting back the smile that tried to show itself. “Ok, ok.”

Joker let out a weak cheer, lifting himself up out of the water and sitting on the edge of the tub behind Bruce.

Bruce felt himself tense for a moment as Joker moved behind him, one leg either side of him, squeezing him softly to hold him in place.

He closed his eyes as Joker placed his hands on him, beginning to kneed at his back, slowly pressing harder, sending shivers down Bruce’s spine.

Bruce felt himself let out a weak moan as Joker pressed down hard.

Joker let out a breathy chuckle, squeezing his legs slightly. “That good, Batsy?”

“Shut up,” Bruce growled. “Keep going.”

Joker laughed a little louder, biting his lip and continuing.

“When did you learn to do this?” Bruce asked, pressing back against Joker’s fingers.

Joker shrugged, “No idea. I guess I’m naturally good at it.”

“Really good…” Bruce groaned. “I should hire you.”

“Do you pay well? I wouldn’t say no to being Bruce Wayne’s personal masseur. Bet it’s a job with a few  _ perks _ ,” as he spoke he turned his foot slightly, deliberately scratching his toe against Bruce’s skin.

Bruce let out a soft grunt, a frown coming to his face, “That would be unprofessional,” he retorted.

Joker scoffed, “Then I decline. I’d much rather have you beat the shit out of me on a regular basis.”

Bruce let out a weak hum, “I’m ok with that. As long as I get this sometimes too.”

“Sometimes,” Joker agreed. He leaned forward, placing a soft kiss onto Bruce’s back, pulling his hands away. “I think you’re done,” he said happily. “Now, unless you want to turn around and suck me off, it’s time for that movie I promised you.”

Bruce let out a hum, genuinely considering it for a moment before deciding he was too full from the lamb, and too relaxed from the bath. He knew how rough Joker liked to be, it would ruin the relaxed mood he was in.

He turned where he sat, placing a soft kiss against the inside of Joker’s thigh, teasing him intentionally. “Which movie have you picked?”

Joker’s breath hitched, “Uh, Along came Polly…”

Bruce nodded, “That’s a good one.” He pulled away and raised himself up, stepping out of the bath.

Joker let out a soft whine, “You mean little bat,” he smiled, following him out.

Bruce took a towel and began to dry himself. Joker mimicked him, humming softly as he rubbed the towel over himself.

“Oh wow,” Joker hummed quietly, “This towel is so soft. Alfred is a saint and he’s blessed these towels, right?” He buried his face in the soft fluffy white towel, “That’s gotta be it.”

“He’s very good at his job,“ Bruce said, chuckling.

“Gotta get myself a butler,” Joker smiled.

Bruce shrugged, “They probably won’t be as good as Alfred,” he smirked.

“Then I’ll just have to move in, and we can share Alfred,” Joker suggested.

Bruce huffed and shook his head, “I don’t think that’ll happen.”

Joker tutted, “Fine.” He threw his towel at Bruce’s head. “I’ll just send you all my laundry to do. I know that guy can get blood stains out of anything.”

Bruce scoffed, letting the towel hit him and fall to the floor. “You know what, if I caused the blood stains I’m sure Alfred will be happy to clean them.”

Joker let out a growled laugh. He walked out into the light of the hall and began to pick up his clothes.

Bruce felt a soft tug in his gut at the sight of him, fully illuminated, pale white skin covered in scars.

He was so used to seeing him in the dark that it was always a shock to see him in the light. It made him look so much more beautiful.

Bruce resisted the urge to follow him out and pull him into a kiss, knowing what it would lead to. He averted his eyes and pulled on the clean clothes; blue boxers, a white tshirt, and a pair of black joggers.

“You know, you’re a very pretty man,” Joker cooed from behind him, waiting in the hall for him, leaning against the wall.

Bruce blew out the candles and pulled the plug out of the bath, walking out into the hall, looking Joker up and down. He was no longer wearing his full suit as he had been before, he’d discarded the jacket and hadn’t bother to button up his shirt.

“Thankyou,” he smiled.

Joker put his hands on his hips, “Don’t I get a compliment back..?” he asked, smirking.

“You are very handsome,” Bruce said, nodding.

“Thankyou,” Joker cooed back. Slowly he took a step away from the wall, leading Bruce down the hall again, down a set of stairs and into the home cinema.

It looked as if everything was already cued up to play, Bruce crossed the room and sat in one of the sofas, letting himself sink into the soft red cushions.

“Let me get the popcorn!” Joker said excitedly. He rushed into the other room, returning a moment later with a large bowl almost overflowing.

“You know I don’t usually have popcorn while I’m watching a film.”

“I know,” Joker whined, “You don’t like snacks between meals, blah blah blah…” he let out a chuckle, waving his hand dismissively, “It’s a special occasion! Live a little Bruce, eat some fucking popcorn.” He picked up a piece of popcorn and threw it at Bruce.

“Stop throwing things at my head,” Bruce protested, picking up the popcorn and popping it in his mouth.

Joker cocked his head, feigning consideration before shaking his head. “Nah.” He threw another piece.

“Joker,” Bruce growled.

“What?” Joker smiled, “You gunna do something to stop me?”

“Just sit down,” Bruce said, shaking his head.

Joker shrugged, walking to the sofa and flopping down next to Bruce, somehow not spilling any of the popcorn.

Bruce took the remote, pressing play. He took a handful of popcorn, shoving it in his mouth bit by bit.

Joker took a handful, shovelling it into his mouth, chewing loudly. He leant over on the seat, laying up against Bruce, putting his feet up next to him.

“Hug me,” he instructed, snuggling up to him, nuzzling into his shirt.

Bruce gave a small smile, wrapping his arm around Joker’s shoulder and pulling him close. He let out a soft breath, slowly eating his popcorn as the film started playing.

The dark room and the flashing lights, the scent of lavender and clean clothes hanging on them, the weight of Joker laying on him. It was so relaxing.

He could feel himself getting sleepy. He could barely focus on the screen.

He turned his head, nuzzling a kiss into Joker’s soft hair. He closed his eyes and inhaled deep, he smelled so nice, apple and lavender and soap mixed together…

Tonight had… Tonight had gone so much better than he’d thought it would.

He’d done exactly what he wanted, but Joker had made it so much better.

Everything was always so much better with him around. He made everything so fun, so exciting. He couldn’t imagine his life without him.

“I love you,” he said quietly, pressing another kiss against his scalp.

Joker stilled in his arms, turning his head slowly.

“What?” Joker said slowly, his eyes wide, a small smile curling his lips.

“You heard me,” Bruce growled.

He felt himself blink slowly, unable to stop his eyes closing. He shook his head in a half-hearted attempt to keep himself awake.

Joker let out a chuckle, shifting in Bruce’s arms, lifting himself up to kiss him on the cheek. “I knew it,” he said, his voice like a song.

Bruce let out a grunt, too tired to stop himself from smiling.

“You’re so easy to read,” Joker purred, settling back down, giving Bruce’s hand a soft kiss and wrapping his arm around him. “Adorable little bat. You’ve loved me for years, but you’re too emotionally constipated to say it. I can’t believe I had to go to all this trouble to get you to actually say it out loud.”

“Joker… shut up.”

“Ok, ok, I’ll let you enjoy the film.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thankyou to @fractualized for editing the first half of this fic, but worry not, I guarantee the second half is as rife with errors as my fics usually are!


End file.
